Sunlight patches on the branches of trees.
Each step a small, impressive yes.
Bumpy roots.
The rhythm is returning,
Crutch indents fading with the cold.
Warm air fills me.
I am surrounded by leaves.
A bird fills the afternoon with song.
For the first time in months my stride remembers
How to be simply carried forward.
Without a crutch to aid.
What a blessing to have these legs.
That finally do not feel pain.
The pain will return.
But the birds will keep singing.
